


X-Men: The Majesty of Decay

by callonthestorm



Category: X-Men (Comicverse)
Genre: F/M, Gen, M/M, Magic, Nature
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-06
Updated: 2014-11-24
Packaged: 2018-01-18 09:35:14
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 18,603
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1423552
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/callonthestorm/pseuds/callonthestorm
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When a terrible event occurs in Mississippi, the X-Men are forced to react when they find that a new mutant is located nearby via Cerebra. Led by Storm, the X-Men squad must discover if the mutant is the source of a mysterious black dome over Hattiesburg, killing every living thing within it. Unaware of what lies within the dome, Storm, Cannonball, Iceman, Cecilia Reyes, Moonstar, Husk, M, and Anole do not know what dangers they'll encounter.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. A Call to Action

**Author's Note:**

> This event takes place loosely in current continuity, as of March 2014.
> 
> This work was simultaneously published in wattpad as well.
> 
> All characters, except for Daran Yew, are properties of Marvel Comics.

PROLOGUE

Veins of darkness creep under the crispy leaves and through the network of roots. Ferns, shrubs, and flowers shrivel, and lastly the trees drop their leaves and moan with pain in the overwhelming crackling, crunching silence. Moles and worms rise up from their trails. Rabbits and foxes hurriedly form dens only to hide in them, as if winter is unexpectedly coming. Deer spring away, only to be brought back by a wall of darkness. Birds scatter, but cannot flee to any destination. The fluttering crows, geese, wrens, and other birds of beauty smack into the dark sky with clattering, squawks, caws, chirps, and songs. Quickly, their torpedo bodies return to the earth like twisting fireworks. The world is trapped inside, and it’s dying. It can’t breathe; it can’t feed.

With a gasp, Daran Yew’s eyelids dart open to allow his dilated emerald eyes to adjust to the dim light around him. The dank, mossy air of the pine cavern he lies in fills him with a burst of energy. Without clothing, Daran runs straight to the chilly, open air to look upon the sky, searching for the black sky that brings ruin to the earth. Far in the distance to the west, the stars are shrouded, and the dark blue hue of the sky turns to black.

Daran begins to hum the old folk tune “The Blackest Crow.” His voice then carries the lyrics far into the night and into the leaves of the surrounding plants as he sings of the impossible.

_The blackest crow that ever flew would surely turn to white._  
 _If ever I prove false to you, bright day will turn to night._  
 _Bright day will turn to day my love; the elements will mourn._  
 _If ever I prove false to you, the seas will rage and burn._

 

CHAPTER 1

As part of Headmistress Munroe’s geography course, the students watch a half hour of news on Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays. Today’s news began with the latest Lindsay Lohan meltdown and photos of Jennifer Lawrence and Michael Fassbender’s baby. Its name: Dun. That’s right. Dun, as in the color brown. After the typical tabloid talk, the newscasters delve into a strange phenomenon. A large black dome had appeared over Hattiesburg, Mississippi. “Local rescue missions prove unsuccessful as communications is dead,” says the newscaster with perfectly quaffed hair and non-shiny face, “and any attempts of those inside to exit the black dome’s perimeter have failed.”

Headmistress Ororo Munroe, also known to the public as Storm of the X-Men, leans in to listen intently. “Rescue attempts are under consideration, but officials are hesitant to send anyone in until they find out further information, concerning the phenomenon. We have with us today an expert on supernatural phenomena. Welcome, Doctor Peter Fossaway.”

“Thank you, Dan.”

“What is your initial reaction here? Do you have any inkling as to what this black dome might be? Is it mutant-related?” _Great. Another mutant-blaming session._

“I can’t say for sure, but it does _not_ seem to be mutant-related. Mutant encounters, especially those when powers are triggered, tend to be more close-ranged, effecting those in close proximity. Just the other day, a new mutant accidentally created panic in the minds of those within a fifty-foot radius of her. She was only nervous about an exam, and it triggered her powers.”

“Surely this dome isn’t a product of nature, though, right?”

“Is most certainly isn’t. Nothing in nature could produce a dome in which something could enter but never leave. This is most definitely unnatural, and I’d say possibly even magical.”

Just then, Ororo’s long-time friend Rachel Grey tapped into Ororo’s mind and says, _“Storm, I assume you’re aware of the news in Mississippi?_ ”

“ _Yes, I am. Do you have any further reports?_ ”

“ _A brief blip showed up on Cerebra in that same area_ ,” Rachel responds. “ _It could be the source, but the mutant could be nearby, possibly even a hundred miles away.”_

“ _We must take our chances_ ,” says Storm telepathically. “ _Prepare a team for departure. We’ll leave in twenty minutes. Do you mind staying here to keep us updated on any real-time information?_ ”

“ _Of course_.”

“ _Thank you, Rachel_.”

Ororo turned her attention to the class, fixated on the projected screen in front of the classroom. They should be so innocent, but most of these children have seen more war than most in privileged countries. Of course, most of the children hadn’t grown up in war-torn countries like Sooraya Qadir, but they’ve been forced to grow up much earlier than any child should. Any mutant is forced to grow up before their time, learning how to be hated and feared by the world, while trying to find themselves in the sea of hatred, hoping they don’t drown. Many of them have seen their friends and even family die. And here in this room, they learn about wars currently fought, cultures clashing, and the ever-changing borders of lands. Do they learn from our mistakes, or will they repeat them? Ororo could only hope she’d dissuade them from repeating past mistakes.

* * * * *

Marvel Girl conjures a varied team with which Storm is more than content. Storm explains what she can of the event in the Council Room with the news streaming in the background on multiple televisions, everyone in their civilian outfits. Cannonball is Storm’s second-in-command with a team of Iceman, Cecilia Reyes, Moonstar, Husk, M, and Anole, leaving Chamber, Marvel Girl, Firestar, Wolverine, Warbird, Karma, Beast, Northstar, Doop, and Frenzy at the Jean Grey School for Higher Learning. “If we found the blip on Cerebra, you can expect Cyclops to have done so, too,” says Storm, yet wearing her bright blue dress with bright jewelry made by the women of the Umoja village.

“And probably the Avengers,” says Anole, handsomely clad in his business attire of a chocolate suit. “The news did say it was unlikely to be mutant-related.” Anole has a good head on his shoulders, focused and heroic. His determination brought him here, no doubt. If both Cyclops’ team and the Avengers show up, this mission could get ugly, but it could also be useful to have more help, if need be.

“Ugh! The Avengers think they own the world,” Bobby Drake says melodramatically in a Hawaiian shirt and khakis. The Avengers had never been partial to helping mutants when they needed it. Their own Scarlet Witch had ruined the mutant population, taking with her countless lives. Recently, better relations have been attempted in forming a team of both X-Men and Avengers, but it proved to be much of a failure. Out of the corner of his mouth, Bobby says to Sam Guthrie, “They don’t, do they?”

Now a part-time Avenger, Sam shrugs, as if Bobby is slighting him. His buzz cut, blond as ever, is accentuated by his brown and golden checkered shirt and jeans. Storm had always respected Sam, though they had often not seen eye to eye, especially when it concerned Marrow. His wide-eyed curiosity and determination made it hard to dislike him, especially as a co-leader. You could count on him to follow through on a mission, even at the cost of his own life, even if he was severely overwhelmed and overpowered.

Dani Moonstar, in braided pigtails and a V-neck black T-shirt and tan jacket, looked with an uneasy smile at Sam. “Sam, I think Bobby’s asking you if you are part-owner of the world.” With his trademark blush, Sam says nothing. Ororo recalls Sam when he was consistently nervous and blushed if anyone talked to him. Dani, on the other hand, was the opposite: brazen, rash, and outspoken. The two complete each other when co-leading.

“Who cares if either is there? Aren’t we just there to help out?” says Cecilia Reyes in a lab coat stained with liquids that Ororo wasn’t sure she wanted to know what they were. Blunt and slightly cantankerous, Cecilia had gone through nightmares that she never wanted to live. She never wanted this dangerous and chaotic life that mutants are forced to live. Rather, she wanted the hustle and bustle of a surgeon’s profession. Her pressures can easily get to her, though, and her X-Men family is always willing to alleviate any pressure she might be feeling.

“By punching stuff,” says M, pristinely put together in a jeans and red and white striped shirt, looking at her nails on one hand, while the other rests beneath it. “Or people.   I like punching people.”

Storm declares boldly, unaware if Monet St. Croix was joking. Sometimes it’s difficult to tell. Monet unnerves her, often unreadable and unpredictable; but she is a powerhouse. “There will be no punching, unless need be.”

In her plaid shirt, cardigan, khakis, and thick-rimmed glasses, Paige Guthrie—wanting to get to the point—inquires, “So what’s the plan?” Ororo always thought Paige could be a great leader with her ability to be intelligent, rational, decisive, adaptive, and instinctive. Her recent development of her secondary mutation has only made her more determined. However, her powers are now more volatile and more risky. And she’s only beginning to control them again. Her presence may be problematic, and her leadership abilities may be impacted significantly.

Ororo had little time to think of a plan, but as leader, she was forced to make decisions with flexibility and immediacy. “First, M will pinpoint the mutant with our portable cerebra. It should be strong enough for short range telepathy. Second, we’ll uncover if the mutant has anything to do with the black dome. If so, we must act accordingly. If not, perhaps we can persuade this mutant to join us. When we arrive at Hattiesburg, we shall examine the site to determine a course of action.”

Monet nonchalantly adds, “Like punching.”

“Possibly,” Storm retorts. “If you have more questions or input, let’s take them to the Blackbird. Is everyone ready?”

Reyes smirks and says, “Drake’s gotta get a change of underwear.”

Bobby holds up his hands and says, “What can I say? Sometimes fear gets the best of me.”

Loudly exhaling, Ororo orders, “Alright, let’s go.” Her team heads to the military-style Blackbird with haste. Storm seated herself in the cockpit with Anole in the co-pilot seat. He had been learning how to pilot a jet and had a few practices, but he hasn’t flown a jet by himself. While he took notes on the flight to Mississippi, Storm thought she could allow him to fly on the return trip home. “What’s the first step in flying a jet, Anole?”


	2. Right in Front of Us

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The X-Men travel to Mississippi to find a new mutant. During the ride, Iceman reveals his heart, and Husk gets embarrassed.

Much more is on Paige Guthrie’s mind than the mission. On one hand, she’s got exams. On the other, Paige can’t decide what to do about a few students’ recent troubles and a new student not quite fitting in so well. Her role as counselor is new, and she isn’t sure she has the resources to do the job to full capacity. On some imaginary third hand, she doesn’t know if she can control her changed powers well enough. Hopefully, her courses at Empire State will help her control her personality changes. Paige hopes she doesn’t mess up in the mission, wanting to prove herself still capable as a full-fledged X-Man, something for which she’d worked arduously for years. She’ll be sidelined again if she screws this up.

Realizing that directly across from her Monet is staring at her with curiosity, Paige decides to pay attention to everyone else in the Blackbird, so as to avoid any questions or judgments from Monet. Monet probably isn’t using her telepathy to read Paige’s mind. It’s probably obvious from her skin beginning to flake. With her right hand, she nonchalantly covers a flake on her thigh and brushed it off her leg with her palm. Still, Monet’s eyes follow her, even when she pretends to look away. A bemused smirk with slight disgust forms on her lips.

“Bobby, I know you’re icing the bench under my ass,” says Cecilia Reyes in a flat, direct tone. “Knock it off, or I’ll form a force field around you and decrease it in size until you’re shaved ice.”

M adds, “And I’ll make sure the syrup is made of your blood. And you can bet I’ll eat that ice. Every. Last. Drop.”

“Um, what the hell’s wrong with you?” Moonstar says with an arched brow, largely unexposed to Monet’s aloof demeanor.

“Maybe it’s not me, Danielle. Did you think of that before opening your mouth?”

With some effort, both Paige and her brother Sam hold back Dani with their hands. Monet remained stoic.

“That’s enough, Monet,” barks Sam. “If you wanna go startin’ trouble, you’re goin’ to fly outside.” Sam used that same voice with the younger siblings on the farm. He felt in charge then, making up for Pa being gone. 

Monet grumbled, “The birds would be better company than this lot.”

Paige couldn’t resist saying, “Some things never change.”

After a long silence, Paige notices Cecilia Reyes studying Bobby. She knows Cecilia doesn’t have feelings for Bobby. He is more like a BFF with her, ever since he rescued her from Bastion’s sentinels. There is something in the way she looks at him, though. It might very well have been worry. “How are you doing these days, Bobby?” Cecilia says softly, attempting to avoid any prying ears, to no avail. Sometimes you’ve got to take a conversation when you can get it.

“I’ve been….good,” Bobby says, but they all know better. And he knows they know, so he admits, looking at Sam, “It’s been hard. People died because of me, what was in me. I had that capability to freeze over the earth. I hurt people from my past. I hurt my family. I hurt everyone close to me. I can’t quite figure out how to cope with it. I’ve shattered, and I can’t refreeze myself back together.” Paige could relate to Bobby. She’d been there before. She led the All-New Hellions for the most recent Hellfire Club, attempting to kill Toad and the X-Men. Paige knows she was a terrorist in Legion’s alternate reality, but she can’t remember it, thanks to Emma. Occasionally, there are glimpses, though, of the atrocities that befell their home and that she committed against humans. It wasn’t like her to up and kill people, even if her family had died. Neither would Bobby. She may not remember specifics, but that knowledge, that pain, never goes away. And it will come back in due time, she knows.

In the ensuing silence, Cecilia places her hand on his shoulder, but his eyes remain on Sam instead. She couldn’t help but notice the hurt and worry in Sam’s eyes. He wasn’t there for Bobby when he needed him most. Paige tried to tell him to come home right away, but Sam was incapacitated with the Avengers at the time. Sam and Bobby had grown close when they had gone undercover during Graydon Greed’s campaign, but they grew even closer the past few years. Sam had been tricked by Serafina, and Bobby had been tricked by Mystique. Meanwhile, they both had gone through near-death experiences. In this, they were brought closer together. Bobby had cast aside his friends from the original X-Men, and Sam had cast aside his former teammates in the New Mutants. Paige couldn’t recall a better friend to Sam than Bobby. Roberto had been Sam’ best friend, too, but Berto had been more about having fun and partying. Both Bobbys were good for Sam. He needs that friend to tell everything to and that friend to have fun with. He’s lucky in that Bobby Drake is often both aspects.

It’s weird having an emotional moment with Bobby. Paige isn’t sure she’d seen that side. Usually he deflects comments or hides his feelings with jokes. The past couple years must have taken a toll on him. In an effort to quell his guilty conscience after nearly ending the world, Bobby had taken to using his powers for philanthropy. He created ice bridges over arid areas in the American West, Northern Africa, and the Middle East, reinvigorating ecosystems around the world. Paige desperately wanted to take part in his adventures, but what could she have done? Unfortunately, researching for environmental legislature, spearheading Mutantes sans Frontières, and donating to charities with money made from selling her precious metal and diamond skin flakes all took a backseat to her college courses, work at the school, and superheroing.

In an overwhelming swell of sensation, Paige imagines herself walking over to Bobby, holding him and kissing him. Does she only find men with darkness in them to be attractive? Is it her own complex of wanting to save them from self-destruction? As if Bobby could sense her lust from her flushed face, he unhooks his eyes from Sam’s to meet hers. Mortified, Paige couldn’t decide if she should give him a sympathetic smile or to look away. With only a second or two passing, it’s too late to avoid his brown-eyed gaze. So she gently smiles and slowly lifts her hand to wave in one swift motion, swiping her hand at the wrist. Oh, hell. I just waved at him. I’m such a nerd. But just as tears begin to well in his eyes, Bobby smiles back. He actually smiles, probably from trying to suppress laughter. Paige wants to hide. This isn’t like her. She had always been in control of her feelings. She was direct and rational, but now she’s acting like a lovestruck schoolgirl.

Her eyes darting between the Paige and Bobby, an amused Cecilia notices first. “Is there something going on between you two?” I could just jump out of this jet and plummet to my splattery death.

“What?!” a gaping Sam interjects, looking with both surprise and anger at Bobby. Paige thinks he’s about to jet into Bobby and start a brawl.

Bobby holds out his hands. “Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa. Cool your jets, Sam. There’s nothing going on here.”

“Best not be.” Sam refrains from speaking, but still hotly suspects. Of course he does. Why else would Cecilia have brought it up? More importantly, why wouldn’t Sam want his closest friend and his sister together? He should be ecstatic, supportive, even.

Dani side-eyes Sam and flatly tells him, “You don’t have any right to judge others about relationships, Guthrie. You can’t even be in one.”

Clearly Dani hasn’t completely moved on from Sam. Sam resigns himself in realizing the hole he’s digging hit the sewer line.

Lightning sprawls out from Ororo’s eyes as she appears standing before the team between the two pilot seats. “Enough of this juvenile squabbling.” Everyone snapped to attention. In all her efforts to seem normal, Ororo Munroe is anything but. She knows she is not a goddess, but she carries herself as a goddess warrior queen. She demands respect and awe without asking for it. Paige feels the urge to kneel at her feet. “We’re nearing the site. Rachel reports that Iron Man and Broo are on site, gathering readings on the dome. M, can you get a reading on our mutant?” Monet had already put on the portable Cerebra helmet while everyone else was engaged in the awkward chaos.

“De Soto National Park on the Leakesfield side, but I’ve lost track of the mutant,” says M with a mild annoyance to her tone, taking the helmet off and placing it beside her. “Tracking has been difficult, to say the least. The trace faintly appears intermittently, but I have a hunch the mutant is in that forest immediately in front of us.”

Storm turns around to look outside the window. “Prepare for descent, X-Men.”


	3. It's My Shine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Storm's team and Cyclops' team race to find the mutant near Hattiesburg. While Storm's team reaches the desintation with little effort, Cyclops' encounters nightmarish obstacles.

Before the team gallantly stands an ancient beautiful forest of both deciduous and evergreen trees with a floor of ferns, sprouting foliage, and flowers. As if the forest is alive, the trees begin to shift in the ground, the roots pushing the trunks away from each other to form a path for the team to traverse. Though the rows of twisted live oaks sprout gnarled in straight rows forming a komorebi tunnel, the trees look like they had been grown not by the hands of Man but by the grace of Mother Nature. Hoping her nervous intake of breath does not show, Storm looks into the tunnel then glanced back. “M?” M nods, and Storm leads the team into the botanical tunnel. “Remember, do not engage in combat. We want to show we mean no harm. Only defend if necessary.” Beneath their feet, fallen leaves crunch and flick and twigs snap. Thick beards of Spanish moss hang from the branches of the oaks, and lichen climbs their trunks over the peppered ponds of wild iris, lobelia, black-eyed susan, coneflower, phlox, and ladyferns. Crows caw as the sight of intruders in their territory. To any person, the site of a gnarled, old forest filled with ominous sounds would frighten them, but Storm found it relaxing and inviting.

 

Interrupting Storm’s tranquil peace and wonder, Rachel jumps in her head, like pots and pans clanging around. _“Storm, nine blips just showed up on Cerebra.”_

 

“We’ve got company,” Storm says to her team.

 

* * * * *

 

“Cyclops,” says Goldballs. “Look; the trees are moving.”

 

“Press on. We need to find this mutant. Their powers could be out of control or could very well be the cause of the dome around Hattiesburg.” And so they do, without hesitation. Cyclops carries a weight of anger upon his shoulders after seeing Storm’s Blackbird. Storm’s piety had recently annoyed him more than it had when they were younger. She left mutants. She could have led them, but she left at the fancy of a king. Whether this appealed to her ingrown sense of royalty and self-deification, she would never admit; but Scott guesses it’s the most accurate answer. Sure, she and T’Challa knew each other long ago and were each other’s first loves, but it was so like Storm to be wooed by a man so powerful and to feel worthy of him, if not more worthy than him.

 

Emma steps into the forest, her heel stuck in the mud. “Forests are unbecoming of a lady in heels, dear.”

 

Just as Cyclops knocks a strip of bark from an oak and stomps on a cluster of purple flowers, braches move before them, forming a wall. Cyclops, not having time for this, nor feeling like animate trees were a threat, blasts a gaping hole through the trees, as if a thirty-foot in diameter circular saw had swept the forest.

 

* * * * *

 

Behind Storm’s team, the trees move closer to one another, and the undergrowth rises in between. The path before them still leads to a brighter light filtered by purple and pink wisteria; but the more they move, the path closes at their heels. Ororo couldn’t help but slow a bit to admire her surroundings. It wasn’t often she ran across such beautiful forests, especially in cities such as New York. Cecilia, she briefly noted, examined the forest as if it were a patient, placing her hands on the trees as if they had heartbeats. No one in the team seemed to be in a hurry, which Ororo was grateful for; she wanted to admire the botanical beauty about her for a just a bit longer.

 

Cannonball leads the team through a wall of wisteria, draped like curtains. Beyond the wisteria, the team finds a botanical paradise. The sun shines brightly through the giant maples, oaks, birch, pine, and fir. Moss drapes over the stones of a large cascade that drops into a cypress-edged pool. Juneberry, foxglove, thimbleweed, columbine, milkweed, bittersweet, gaillardia, rosemallow, wolfberry, lily, turtlehead, wild hyacinth, sweet williams, coreopsis, verbena, larkspur, and so many other flowers color the ferny forest floor, much of it open and bright. Moss grows between a slight path of stones among the flowers and ferns. The waterfall crashes and splashes, the birds sing sweetly, and the leaves whistle in the wind. But it’s not the only noise in the air as a scream overthrows the sounds of nature. Storm commands the winds to fly her towards the sound, above the tree tops, ignoring her lingering team.

 

* * * * *

 

The trees, in a chorus of creaking moans, declare deeply, “You dare disturb, disrespect, and violate this forest and hew its inhabitants without repent? Leave here, and your life will be spared.” Cyclops took the forest’s words as a threat and would not stop until he reached the mutant, who could very well be trapped by whatever holds this forest enthralled. With that thought, he blasts the trees that had regrown before him.  

 

“I feel we’re not welcome,” Emma says, too self-conscious about getting dirty. At least she’s not wearing white anymore; it would be even worse. “Scott, darling, let Storm’s team handle this one.”

 

Cyclops growled, “If they aren’t already dead.” He shoots his eye beams more, and the trees grow right back. X-23 joins him in cutting down tree limbs and shrubs.

 

“Even if they don’t succeed, it’s better that we leave this place,” says Magik, uninspired to hack down anything at the moment. Cyclops has an inkling to trust her judgment on this, given her experience with both magic and mutants.

 

Cyclops looks to the fretting Tempus and says, “Do you have any ideas, Tempus?”

 

Tempus squeaked and shook her head. This team, no matter how many missions they go on, is completely unreliable. “I could freeze time for the forest.”

 

“Proceed, Tempus,” Cyclops orders.

 

Reluctantly, she freezes time, and the team continues without hassle, bordering tree trunks and stepping on underbrush.

 

“Cuckoos, any readings?” Cyclops asks.

 

“Only Monet St. Croix, sending off telepathic psychic signals,” says Celeste.

 

“We hate her,” adds Phoebe.

 

But the destroyed trees do not hold. They begin to grow in response to the team’s continued conversation.

 

* * * * *

 

The screams continue to blare in Storm’s ears, but a loud, clear song arises after, like a rainbow after a heavy rain.

 

 

> _I'm made of bones of the branches the boughs and the brow-beating light,_
> 
> _While my feet are the trunks and my head is the canopy high._
> 
> _And my fingers extend to the leaves in the eves, and the bright_

 

Storm continues her search for the voice, so pure and pained, both old and young. It comes from within a copse of perfectly domed pines and flowering magnolias. Storm descends, enters the copse through a tunnel that arches just above her head and falls just aside her arms. She enters the cavernous tree dome, and before her rests a man in a warped pine, perfect for his body to fit in. The bark at the base crowns out like flower petals. He wears on his legs cloth of moss, his hairy chest is bare, and his blond hair is stubbornly unkempt and disparate. Beside him, deer, foxes, squirrels, and various other forest animals lie in peace among the pine needles. His anguish is apparent in both his face and his weakening body, but his song never falters. It only grows stronger. “Welcome to Gaia’s Green,” he says in a deep voice, perfect for reading an audio book. “It’s been so long since I’ve seen another person. Your friends will arrive anon, but first I must rid of the red-eyed pest and his minions at my door.” He continues his song. And Storm now knows what others see in her; she right now is seeing a god.

 

 

> _Brighter shine._
> 
> _It's my shine!_
> 
>  
> 
> _And he_
> 
> _Was a baby abandoned,_
> 
> _Entombed in a cradle of clay;_
> 
> _And I was a soul who took pity and stole him away_
> 
> _And gave him the form of a faun to inhabit by day._

 

* * * * *

 

Around Cyclops’ team, the trees envelope them. Apparently, the flora about them are producing hallucinogen gasses, and ivy tendrils wrap around Cyclops’ neck and limbs, holding him in place. The world is going vibrant and chaotic. The trees are turning blue and showing their faces, baring their teeth and brandishing their swords. Their voices pounded in his head, shouting, laughing. The thorny berry vines coil around his legs, drawing blood. He cannot decipher any direction, nor can he speak out to his teammates. He is useless. The thunderous voices of the blue flagellum that used to be trees boom in his ears: “I mean no ill will, but you come charging into a place of peace. I permit the white-haired weather witch, but you are not welcome. I will only say this once more. Leave with your life.”

 

The hallucinations cease, and the team finds its feet. They leave the forest with mixed emotions of shame, anger, and jealousy. And the forest grows back and remains closed to them.


	4. Wars All the Time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The X-Men try to convince Daran Yew to join the X-Men.

“The destructive red-eyed man is gone now, along with his companions. How easy it would have been to pop his head off with a tighter squeeze of those vines, but I do not care for violence,” the man in moss pants says to Ororo. He looks her up and down as if a judge of righteousness. “I suspect you do not, either; but you have been forced into that path, have you not?” He could guess they’re superheroes, judging by their costuming.

“I have, but this path has given me a family. I cannot abandon them. I had once already and paid the cost with lives,” Storm says with heavy heart, reminding her of her departure from the X-Men to live in Wakanda. If Ororo had stayed with the X-Men when she married, she surely would have challenged Scott for the leadership of mutants, or possibly even allowed a council and a democracy. But she left, and she left the mutants in the hands of Scott Summers, the man who would come to kill Charles Xavier, her father, of sorts. And she could never have taken his place after the messes he’d gotten them into, despite his offer for her to lead if she could do better. She may have, but she may have driven down the same road he did. “It’s true: I do not condone violence, nor do I have a lust for war; but I do desire justice, and sometimes that justice requires action.”

“I fear you are correct. Justice can be heartbreakingly devastating in its violence,” says the man, petting a fox that strutted up to him. “Oh, I apologize for my lack of manners. My name is Daran Yew.” His words were like that of a noble writer.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Daran. My name is Ororo Munroe. As an X-Man, I am called Storm,” says Ororo, unsure she should believe that it is a pleasure yet. “I take it you do not need our guidance in developing your mutant powers. You seem to have an expert grasp on that already. You might even be one of the most powerful mutants I’ve come across. I suppose you aren’t interested in joining the X-Men.” Ororo hates pandering to his hedonism, but she knows exactly how he thinks. She’s been in his shoes. He has a god complex and refuses to interact with humanity. But that doesn’t mean he won’t interact with a follow god.

“Powerful? What right do you have to rank others by their abilities? I care nothing for power or the want of it,” says Daran, his voice commanding, bitter, and disgusted. Not very god-like after all. He rises from his bark pedal chair. The animals rise with him, and he looks at them with a smile on his face. “Power is grounds for corruption and evil. Look at history. Look at the present. Those in power are not required to repeat formulas in history, but they do. I will take my chances here among the flora and the fauna.”

Ororo considers his options: living a life in paradise by your own rules or living with the X-Men, living life every day not knowing if it was your last day. If she had been able to choose again, knowing how life turns out, she’d choose her own life, free of the X-Men. She could have continued being a goddess if Charles Xavier had not shown up and persuaded her to join his X-Men. Ororo wants to hesitate in response, but cannot show her hesitation. “I did not mean to offend you. I simply meant that you have mastered your craft, which you cannot do without fully understanding it.”

The rest of the X-Men enter the dome of trees, their eyes filled with wonder as they see the animals about, both carnivorous and herbaceous. A squirrel scurries up Moonstar to rest on her shoulders. She scratches its head with her finger. Paige especially admires his bookshelves made from trees grown together to form shelves. She and Cecilia examine the books closer. Books are the only possessions he seems to own, Ororo notes. “Welcome to my home, X-Men.” His eyes rest on Paige with recognition. “You. You I recall.”

She looks up from the bookshelf, curious to know who it was, and her eyes light up in response. “Oh, yeah! When that oil company tried to destroy a four-hundred-year-old Cypress swamp to build a refinery,” she says. “You were impressive at the podium.”

“Your research made it possible,” Daran admits to her. Paige blushes and pulls a loose strand of hair behind her ear.

Ororo can’t help but feel obligated to persuade him to join them. The things he could do for the world and for mutants are unimaginable. “Daran, please reconsider joining us. We could use a mind with different decisions. You’ll find a few elementals among us, as well.” She nods to Bobby. “I have control of the weather, and Bobby here has control over ice. A girl who has just joined our school can communicate with animals.”

Daran picks up a fat, sand-colored rabbit and coddles it in his arms. “I want no part of your wars, wars with humans, wars with aliens, wars with gods, wars with other mutants. Wars all the time.”

“Some of us don’t like war. I prefer ending conflict on peaceful terms,” says Paige. She glances at Bobby now, too, and smiles. “And some of us travel the world to use our gifts where they are needed.” It’s true. Bobby has been traveling recently to help assuage his guilty conscience over nearly ending the world. Paige does wonders, too. Ororo herself has assisted in quelling severe weather. Dust and M have formed a school for Afghan women and girls and have even set up refugee camps. X-23 works for an organization that fights sex slavery. The X-Men are doing wonderful things for the world. If only the world could see how amazing mutants can be.

Ororo sees the wheels turning in his head. Now she must drive it home. “Why live as a recluse and squander your abilities, when you can help others and save the environment? You can make a real difference. You can even have your own home on the property and live how you wish. You will not need to answer to us. You are free to decide to assist us however you see fit.”

A young female boar grunts as she nudges her snout up against his leg as he smiles. Her piglets crowd around her, and happily Victor begins to pet them. “I will come with you if you assist me in one matter before I return with you.” His face then turns dark and worrisome.


	5. Gaia's Green

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Daran guides his guests, the X-Men, on his grounds. He explains his experience with the black dome and expounds upon his mutant powers.

“Come,” Daran tells his guests after they introduce themselves. “Let me show you the beauty of Gaia’s Green.” He leads them out of his home in the pines and into the paradise outside where his wooden co-inhabitants thrive. Following them are his critter companions: Loretta the wild boar and her family, Grace the white-tailed doe and her fawn Tibbot, and a few gray squirrels and chipmunks out to gather some acorns. Ororo, in her regal beauty, falls in beside Daran, her shoulders back and her back straight. Her catlike blue eyes fascinate him, and he finds himself barely able to avert his eyes. His nerves shattered a bit more with every moment he was around her. Her very presence was overpowering, demanding, but she was calming and serene, like the eye of a hurricane.

“What do you know of the black dome that engulfs Hattiesburg?” Ororo’s eyes turn to him and examine him, hoping to read his reaction, surely. He could not decipher her question’s intent. Does she suspect him? Does she figure he knows something being so close?

“I had no role in the decay of Hattiesburg.”

Ororo nods. “I had no doubt of that. It did not seem within your power nor within your character.”

“The wall is unnatural. It unnerves me since its inception. I’m becoming embittered and enraged, and I can do naught to cease its deathly draw. The ashen wall is a mix of dark magic and advanced technology. I have not entered through the wall, for I have seen the despair of the residents, unable to escape its cold, skeletal hands. Passing the threshold blind may be my demise.”

“Sensible,” she agrees. “Do you possess any further information?”

“I have tried growing trees and vines inside the perimeter, and none live too long before their lives flow from them, and they decay far faster than I can grow a mature plant. Of no other intelligence am I aware.”

From behind Daran, the ruggedly handsome yet gawky Sam Guthrie says in a familiar dialect, “Dark magic and advanced technology. Sounds like someone you know well, Ororo.”

Over her shoulder, she growls, “Victor von Doom.” Daran recalls the name. Doctor Doom, dictator of Latveria and known terrorist. Favorite person in the world is not a title Daran would give him.

The one who introduced herself as Danielle Moonstar asks, “What abilities exactly have you gained from your mutation?” Of all his visitors, Danielle, or Dani, as her friends are calling her, is most curious. She harkens the beautiful berdache warrior women of Native America. She finds strength in the forest, within herself, within her heritage. Her posture is relaxed and graceful, yet poised and noble, much like Ororo’s. Her eyes dart about, always aware of her surroundings.

Despite her question of his mutation to which Daran thinks the answer is obvious, he supposes he should define them and how they work. “At the core, I manipulate plants.”

“Obviously,” the model-like Monet says and realizes she said the wrong thing. Daran does not bother to glare at her. She can sense it, he knows. Telepath apparently give off an invasive aura, and the brain feels tingly. He should find Monet attractive, but in no way does he find her so, not with her horrid haughtiness. With just a thought from Daran’s apparent simple brain, a low-hanging oak limb lifts for them to pass below. A field of acorns lay before him, and he plucks one from the ground, before Anthony the Squirrel can snatch it for himself. Daran holds it before him as if it is a precious specimen and says, “I must possess any item with which to begin life: a seed, a sapling, a root, any part of a plant at any stage,” he says, tossing the acorn far in front of them.

“From that start, I can grow the plant and manipulate its growth.” With a lift of his hand to help focus, the acorn sprouts, and grows within a minute into an adult fifty-year-old oak. “But the plants react for quicken to stimulation. The best way I have found is by singing.” Daran await the chuckles but none surface. “My manipulation is more acute because of this. Not only do they enjoy the extra carbon dioxide to filter, but the vibrations are stimulants, much akin to that received from drinking coffee.”

Throwing another two acorns, Daran samples his power while singing, his foot stomping in time. He grew the oaks tall.

 _Proud Margaret stands at her faither's door  
As straucht's a willow wand  
And syne there cam' a gairdener chylde  
Wi' a red rose in his hand, his hand  
_Wi' a red rose in his hand

In unison, the trees lift their roots and dance an old dance of Tudor England—the dirt beneath them falling, the wood within them creaking, the leaves rustling, the limbs clapping against each other, and the roots pounding upon the forest floor, all in rhythm. Loretta and her family run in circles about the group.

 _Oh ye sall have my rose quo' he  
Gin ye'll gie your floo'er to me  
And amang the floo'ers o' your faither's yaird  
I'll mak' a goon for thee, for thee  
_I'll mak' a goon for thee

Wondrous silence blankets the guests. Grace and Tibbot looked on with ears twitching, heads low. Ororo wipes a tear from her eye and tells him, “I have never seen such beauty, and I have made awe-inspiring storms.”

The young and jovial Victor, the Anole Victor, not von Doom Victor, laughs as Jerry the piglet snorts and kisses his cheek, saying, “What about the animals?” Obviously, Daran notices and is envious of Victor’s green skin and arm that likely had been hewn off and regrown.

“I was always confused by that side effect. I am unable to speak with them, but I can understand their body language and vocalizations like I can read a half dozen other languages. And, yes, I am literate, Monet, and, no, I do not have carnal relations with them,” says Daran, overriding Monet’s attempt to speak. He smirks at Monet, who knows full well at this point that any predictable quip she generates will be shut down. “A deer’s fright is as clear to me as a simple sentence.”

A strange question arises from Ororo: “How old _are_ you?”

Surely, she understands his baffled face, with wide eyes, arched brow, and contorted mouth. Daran thinks, _How old do I look?_ “Thirty years have passed since I was born.”

Confusion passes upon their faces. “And you’ve had your powers since puberty?” Danielle asks. Daran nods. “Then—then how have we not detected you with Cerebra, especially after M-Day?”

Having no inkling of what she is talking about, Daran simply blankly blinks at her and shrugs.

Monet is quick to respond, “Cerebra is a psionic enhancer, designed for locating mutants.

Ororo continues, “The mutant population was nearly eradicated when Scarlet Witch changed reality. No longer were mutants on the rise and the coming evolution; they returned to a minority and even became nearly extinct. The mutants that arise now are a different strand of mutant genes. We could only find 198 mutants on Earth with Cerebra after Scarlet Witch’s three destructive words. We gathered all the mutants to live together for safety in numbers. We obviously had not known of you, or we would have come to you.”

The thought of so many people destroyed by someone of their own kind is horrendous. Daran recalls the news at the time, the exposes of former mutants trying to live, often their bodies warped and unable to cope from their physical mutations. Concerned of its very existence, Daran says, “Such a tool sounds dangerous if in the wrong hands, not to mention an invasion of privacy.”

“It’s nothing compared to most technology out there now,” says Paige.

Daran can offer no explanation as to why he could not be tracked, but Monet has a suggestion that his powers make psionic detection nearly impossible, especially being surrounded by heavy overgrowth most of the time.

Adding to the suggestion, Paige notes, “Biology of plants includes strange phenomena unexplained by science.” He felt it when he first met Paige Guthrie, glued to a far corner in the library, researching the effects the oil refinery would put on the environment. He feels it again now: pure awe, admiration, and respect for everything she is. Her intellect, compassion, and drive lure him to her like an Orpheum. The heart within his chest beat at the cadences of her voice. “Plants exude gasses, pollen, odors, and pulses to attract, confuse, repel, or even kill a foreign body. The plants, especially those manipulated by him could be expelling pheromones that block psionic detection and even electronic signals.” Cecilia Reyes concurs with Paige, clearly eager to study Daran.

Daran leads them beside the flowing cascades, outlined with wisteria and carpeted with moss. Willows and live oaks hang their branches over the water, where ancient cypress trees shoot from the pool’s floor. He thought it appropriate to allow them to rest there at the banks of the pool to enjoy the scenery before they all head into their possible doom. “So, Daran, what brought you _here_?” Bobby Drake asks, breaking his daze and most-definite stare.

“I attempted to lead a normal life. After my family disowned me, I moved to my aunt’s house in the Appalachian mountains of Kentucky.” At that, Sam perks up, and Paige gasps.

“What town?” she says.

“Outside of Harlan,” Daran replies. “You?”

“Cumberland,” Sam responds enthusiastically. “We were just a good hike away from each other, then.” That explains Sam’s familiar Southern Appalachian dialect.

Daran grins at their excitement and even his own, meeting people from the time in his life he so cherished. “It was there in Harlan that I learned more about plants and farming than I ever could have from a book, which is strange, given my affinity for books. I helped her on the farm, turning it into a successful business, having the best fruit and vegetables around. From her, I learned most of the folk songs I know from the motherland. When I graduated high school, I did as I thought best: go to college and enter the workforce. I became an editor in New Orleans and worked so much that my love of nature fell to wayside.

“It was not until a couple of yellow-crowned night-herons built a nest in the great oak tree in my front yard. For some reason, the chicks chirping snapped me out of my long-held daze while I worked from home. A realization hit me like a two-by-four in the face. I could live off the land, live with the land. I could again use my abilities to their full potential and existence. Why had I been given these powers if I was not to use them?” Cecilia looks off into the distance. “I should have returned to my aunt’s but I grew accustomed to the solidarity. I know not how she fares. I should very much like to see her.”

With Paige and Sam on either side of him, Bobby says just out of Daran’s earshot, or so he thinks, “This is Mirkwood, right? We’re totally in middle-earth, and this guy’s King Thranduil, a real-life elf-king. He is completely badass.” Daran smirks at the correlation between him and a character from one of his favorite works. He prefers Galadriel over Thranduil, of course, but he is nonetheless impressed by the handsome man. Daran tries to read the situation among the three confidants. If Bobby even looks at Paige, Sam darts a warning glare at him, as if his eyes could pull triggers. The way Bobby looked at Daran at first, he figured Bobby favors the company of men, but sexuality is naturally not compartmentalized, Daran knows.


	6. Torn

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Daran reminisces with Husk, and Husk and Iceman have a moment to talk in the beautiful Gaia’s Green before they meet their potential doom.

From a woven pouch he wears around his waist, Daran drops a few seeds in the ground beside him, spaced evenly a few feet apart. “Here I grow my own vegetables and fruit, living off the land, non-destructive to the local environment. I can grow vegetables or fruit anytime I choose.” Orange bell peppers, purple tomatoes, and carrots sprout and ripen before their eyes within mere moments. He delicately plucks a few black-purple fruits and hands one to Paige first, his hazel eyes meeting hers and just for a few moments lingering as if having a conversation that only they could understand. Is Paige just horny or something? _First, Bobby; now Daran; who’s next? Piotr? No. What a dud._

“I cannot have visitors without feeding them, can I?” Daran says as he distributed the vegetables to the rest. The tomato explodes in Paige’s mouth, juicy and bold. He then distributes the peppers and brings the carrots he pulls out from the soft earth to the poolside. Paige and Ororo assist him in cleaning them. For the briefest moment, Paige and Daran touch hands in the water. Time stands still, and she again looks into his deep, thoughtful eyes. She wants to touch him longer, but Ororo is watching them with a smirk. It’s as if she’s in a corny romantic comedy, and she hates those. When the dirt washes away, the carrots are more clearly a deep purple and sweeter than their orange counterparts. Paige is excited to see the purple vegetables. The darker the vegetable or fruit, typically the better for you.

Paige sits down on the bank, her feet resting on a rock, while the rest of the team sits on or under a giant live oak tree. A pair of legs come into her view, green and mossy. Daran—it has to be Daran—sits beside her. “Are you yet active in environmental causes?”

Sighing, Paige admits, “I try, but I’ve become so bogged down with work, college, and holding myself together that it’s become second to the rest.”

“Promise me that when I return with the X-Men, you will once again make the environment a priority,” Daran says, placing his hand on hers and intensely gazing into her eyes. “You were once so passionate about it. Have you lost that passion?”

“Of course not. I’ve just been through a lot. Being an X-Man isn’t just about helping others; we’re constant targets. All of mutants are just because we were born. I’m fighting to only seventy percent of my existence while trying to prepare the younger generation for that as they live their lives like teens are supposed to.”

Daran looks at her as he takes a bite from his orange pepper. “I cannot imagine such a life.”

“But I promise to be more active in environmental causes when we get back.”

“Good. I do, as well.” Daran genuinely and broadly smiles, but his smile fades as a new thought enters his mind. “I loathe to ask you, but it weighs heavily on my heart.”

So much was running through Paige’s mind; she wasn’t sure what to expect from his mouth. “Shoot.”

His fingers gently brush through his flaxen hair.  “Are you and Bobby courting?”  _Courting?  It’s like this guy—this beautiful, chiseled demi-god—came straight out of the nineteenth century._

Maybe if she doesn't answer, he'll think she doesn't hear him over the cascades and birds.  Maybe he'll take it back, then, ignoring that he ever said it.  Paige straightens her back and takes a deep breath.  She grabs her knee, so she doesn’t fall back.  “I’m not sure.  That’s something I’ll need to figure out soon.”

“Years have gone by, waiting to even talk to you; what difference does a bit longer make?” His smile returns, and she can’t help but be enthralled by him. Paige recalls Daran when they worked together in New Orleans. How he’s changed! His body had once been thin and twiggy. His wavy blond hair had been short and perfectly parted, nowhere near as long as it is now. He’s filled out with toned muscles, not large, but naturally developed from labor and exercise. As opposed to his dark tan back then, Daran now has healthy complexion from a lack of chemical ingestion, less exposure to sunlight, and lack of stress. What the hell does this perfection want with Paige, a nerdy average-looking young woman who loves to stay in on nights off rather than going out and partying?

Standing up and dusting off her butt, Paige excuses herself from further awkwardness. “We should continue on.” She meets up with her teammates and Daran soon follows, only to lead them along to explore more of his home.

Bobby pretends to admire the scenery, seemingly distracted, or at least uses it as a visible and believable excuse in falling behind next to Paige. With a loud chinking snap, he takes a bite out of an ice carrot he’s made. “Eeeeh,” he says in a nasally Bugs Bunny voice, chomping the ice quickly, “what’s up, doc?”

Out of the corner of her eye, Paige looks at Bobby, amused. “Really? That’s your pickup line?”

“Would you prefer, ‘Every time you breathe, an angel gets its wings.’”

“No,” she responds. “I’m good.”

Straight to the point, Bobby finally says, “Listen, I never really thought about you in a romantic way. You were always too young for me, Sam’s little sister. But you’re, what, twenty-one now?” Paige nods. “At least you’re older now than when you dated Warren. And that pretty boy is—was—older than me.”

Was—that’s right. Warren doesn’t exist as they knew him. A pile of hurt sat atop her chest and surely Bobby’s, too, Warren having been one of his oldest and dearest friends. He now knows the struggles Warren experienced with the dark side. Bobby knows he says the wrong thing. He never had a way with words, always the classic, bumbling idiot.

“I’m sorry. I—I’m not good at this,” Bobby says, rubbing his neck as he looks at the ground. His nerdy nervousness is adorable. “I’ve noticed you a lot recently, Paige. A lot. I can’t say why all of the sudden it’s happening. But I admire you. I really do. You’ve always had it together. When you start to unravel, you do your best to pick yourself up and start again, working harder than before. I, on the other hand, have always been a mess. That’s never really changed, and I don’t think it ever will, despite how hard I try to be…unmessy.”

Paige has heard enough. Her lips are numb from the utter need to kiss him, to release the tension that’s been building inside them since the awkward moment in the Blackbird. She stands on her toes, reaches her head up, propping her body up with her hands on his shoulders. Her lips land on his, but he fails to return her kiss. A shivering cold strikes her lips and invades her body, taking her breath away. She breaks off and sees that his eyes were wide open and his body stiff. He shakes his head and drops his carrot on the ground with a light thud.

“Sorry,” he says. “Let’s try that again.” This time he leans in, and his lips meet hers. Rather than a frigid frost, the warmth takes hold. She likes it well enough, but she can tell has troubles, hesitating, trying too hard, stiffening his lips. The cold returns, then, and she breaks off. Is he here with Paige when his lips are cold and rigid, or is he elsewhere? She wants to be the one to keep him warm. But he knew she was kissing him since she first laid lips on his. Was he thinking of someone else when he relaxed, when she finally felt the heat rise from within him?

“What’s wrong?” she finally asks.

He bites his lip. “I’m nervous.”

“Why? Because of Sam? I can handle him.”

He chuckles and says with a captivating smile, “I just really want to be in the Guthrie clan.” There it is. Paige is a bridge a gateway to a better, more addicting Guthrie.

“I don’t want to disappoint, anger, or embarrass you, but…I think you’re macking on the wrong Guthrie.”

Bobby’s cheeks become flushed. “Melody’s _way_ too young.”

The only thing that Paige is sure her face shows is utter actuality. “I’m not talking about Mel, and you know that.”

Bobby exhales audibly. “I know. I just can’t. My dad had a hard enough time accepting I am a mutant.” His hands find his face to wipe away the increasing tears. “I can’t.” In a long, warm embrace, Bobby’s torso heaves with heavy sobs, and his gagging whimpers break her heart. She can’t be mad at him.

“I suppose you and Sam haven’t talked about it.”

And he unravels like a terribly tied knot. “No. But it’s always there, lurking under the surface. I’ve been so close to telling him how I feel, who I am, the whole me. I want him to know the whole me.”

“I think you need to break the ice. You and Sammy just need to get some drinks in you and be honest with each other.” She thinks back to all the times she’s seen them together and all the stories Sammy tells her about Bobby, and she gives Bobby a reassuring grin. “Maybe he’d be into at least trying it. I’ve seen him in some kinky leather gear that would make Mr. Slave from South Park blush in shame.”

The humor is lost on Bobby, and he brokenly tells her, “The last thing I need is to lose his friendship. Hank and Ro are my only close friends, aside from Sam.”

She takes his hands in hers and boldly but softly tells him, “You’ll have me, Robert Drake.” She kisses his forehead, like her mother had done when she tucked her in bed at night.


	7. Always a Pleasure

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Storm's team meets Tony Stark and Broo at the dome's perimeter to learn more of the dome's creation. Lots of snark ensues.

Daran had traveled to the dome, carried by tree limbs, while the rest had taken flight. Storm lifted Anole on her winds; M carried Husk, holding her by her forearms; Cannonball held Moonstar on his back; Cecilia rode on Iceman’s ice slide. Taking the Blackbird would alert their presence and was almost pointless so close of a distance, so they left the Blackbird outside Daran’s home. They greet Tony Stark and Broo, both hard at work on their electronic devices and scanners, whatever they are. Storm has no desire to learn the latest technologies. It is not a skill that comes easily to her, nor does she exactly want to learn.

“Storm,” Stark says, not looking up from his work, using both hands, one to guide a projected screen and another to use on a scanning device in the shape of an old cell phone. “Always a pleasure. Does this mean that Cyclops will show up sometime soon to ruin everyone’s day?”

The matter had already come to mind when he attempted to reach Daran. “It _is_ televised, so it’s likely. Anything to make himself look better to the world right now, he will do, with no regard as to the consequences. I am leaving part of the team out here to reason with him, should he or anyone else arrive.”

Stark immediately responds, “I’ve already set up a perimeter alert system.”

“An alert system may not matter with Tempus on their team,” says Iceman.

Smiling, Tony rubs his goatee and says, “No worries.” The alarm sounds and lights up on his wrist. He looks up to see Daran arriving shortly after them, a tree branch throwing him at their feet. “Speaking of, who might this tall muscular and, of course, shirtless, hunk of weird-looking manflesh be?”

“Iron Man, meet Daran Yew, a mutant with control over plants.” Daran holds out his hand as he approaches.

“Botanokinesis. Interesting,” he says, returning to his work. “It still doesn’t explain the shirtlessness or the chiseled, tan frame,” says Iron Man, smirking.

Rather than Stark, Broo excitedly approaches Daran, also holding his hand out. Broo cups Daran’s with both hands. “To meet you is a most significant and intriguing pleasure. May I offer you some tea, brewed with local flora? It’s even tolerable to human stomachs.” Daran, unfazed by Broo’s alien insectoid looks, politely declines the offer, though seems to have considered taking the tea. Daran, however, must know that there is no time for tea now. They are here on a mission.

Husk curtly answers for Storm, watching Daran and Broo interact before snapping her eyes to Tony. “Daran has been living out in the forest, living off the earth for years now. Why bother with clothes if you don’t see anyone?”

A laugh manages to erupt from Stark’s diaphragm. “This coming from the lady who usually ends up being an exhibitionist in every fight.”

“Hey, I’ve learned to husk into an organic suit,” she responds through gritted teeth with arms at her side and fists clenched, ready to husk. Out of the corner of her eyes, Ororo noted Sam about ready for a fight as well. That would be twice on this trip that he almost came to blows over his sister. The next time she forms a de facto team, it might be best to not include siblings together. “So cool your jets, Stark.” The truth is that she may not be able to husk into an organic suit anymore, after learning how to do it. She must, essentially relearn her powers. It’s not an easy task, especially if her personality alters with her skin.

Cecilia’s face is a mere inch away from the dome, her head tilting to the side and eyes squinting. “So what have we got here?” she says, adjusting her glasses and breaking the tension.

“I’m unsure about the nature of it,” Tony begins as he lifts a stick from the ground and directs it halfway through the dome’s wall, “but it seems to be constructed of magic with an electrical current and solidified light of some sort.” He attempts to bring the stick back, but it does not budge. The stick remains where Tony’s hand leaves it. He flicks it into the dome with slight boredom, unlike the rest who are fascinated.

Broo adds, “Fascinatingly, the dome allows gaseous states to escape, which permits those inside to remain living. Nothing fluid or solid is capable of exit.” Ororo looks inside the dome to faintly see small hands pressed against the wall. The hands belong to a girl of about five years old and behind her two adults. His eyes in a contemplative gaze, Iceman quickly evaporates in a silent, crackling explosion.

Storm offers her bit, “Daran seems sure that dark magic has a hand here.”

Tony doubtfully responds, “And what do you think?”

“The same.”

“Just of the Victor von Doom variety,” Moonstar adds.

Her spine tingles at feeling that electrifying air and heavy weight on her shoulders. Ororo knows that feeling well, having numerous experiences with Doom. “I am unwavering in that belief now.”

“Of course.”   The realization sinks in as Tony nods. “All the signs are there. But what’s his endgame here?”

“I’m not sure I really care all that much,” admits Ororo. “I just care about stopping him.”

“He’s trespassing and invading foreign soil,” says Anole with a smirk. “It’s grounds for imprisonment and considered a form of terrorism.”

In a recrystallization process, Iceman reappears, kneeling. He rises, the cold streaming from him in the warm, damp southern air. “Ah, it’s true. I can do it. Also, the little girl in there wants to keep Broo as a pet. You’re potty trained, at least, right, Broo?”

Broo responds after sipping tea from a travel mug, “Professor Drake, I very much would like to meet this girl, answer any questions she may have, maybe even tutor her; but I do not think myself a fitting pet for a child.”

Iceman pouts like a puppy. “Scaly pets just aren’t any fun.”

“You watch your back, Drake,” Anole jokes, side-eying Bobby.

“Cannonball, Moonstar, and Anole, stay out here. Cannonball’s in charge,” Storm commands. “Tony, I know it’s hard, but please cooperate. Don’t get smart.”

“But I’m already smart,” Stark says with offense. He straightens his back. “And since when are you the boss of me?”

“I’m not, but you would be wise to listen.” Telling Tony Stark to be wise is utterly useless, but she did it anyway.

“The bulk of the problems should arise inside, but should we encounter any trouble, I may request someone’s assistance. If you need backup, Iron Man and Broo will be of great help. Iceman can be our switch hitter, since he is capable of evaporating to reform outside the dome.” A chuckle rose from Monet, leaving Storm to wonder what exactly she finds so funny.

With no pause, Bobby quickly adds, “I think Tony wants you to leave Daran behind, too. He has a new toy to try out on Daran.” M laughs more.

“You’re not very sly about sexual innuendo, are you, Drake?” Cecilia says, already knowing the answer.

“Nope! You can even see right through me. Look!” Bobby looks down at himself and holds his hands out to present his clear ice torso.

Tony returns to his work, saying dryly, “You should’ve brought someone more tolerable, like a teleporter or Kitty.”

“All of them are preoccupied,” states M. “Magik might show up, though.”

“The alarm will let me know when someone useful comes then.” Stark pauses as he continues his analyses. “You can go now.” Sometimes Ororo just really wants to bring a lightning bolt on him.


	8. The Mummer's Dance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Daran joins Storm, Husk, M, Cecilia Reyes, and Iceman in the dome to the epicenter of the dome and to the danger that created it: Doctor Doom.

Daran hesitates to step forward, his hands visibly shaking. He still fears his doom beyond the wall, the dread that he, too, will die like the flora within. Before he grabs his own hands, Paige Guthrie takes them both in hers. She looks directly in the eyes. Her eyes are blue like sapphires and her hands soft as rabbit kits, so different from his own calloused hands. She says nothing and turns, leading him with one hand through the smoky screen. Daran’s heart flutters the moment he steps through and panics as he looks back. Maybe if Paige looks at him, he might disappear and reappear outside the dome, like Eurydice. All he sees when he looks ahead is a world of decay. The trees that once stood sentry as giant towers of life, green and lush, now stand bent, broken, rotting, and blackened. Not even insects crawl over them to break them down, but woodland critters hide in the trenches of the fallen trees and dead brush.

“I can barely feel them,” Daran says. Paige turns to him, and he’s still there in the dead forest. “The plants. They are all almost dead. Doom is keeping them alive enough to continue feeding off them with whatever he’s doing.” The lonesome emptiness floods his eyes with tears.

“It’s okay,” Paige says as her hand grips his tighter. “We’ll fix this.”

“Is the ability to do so within the X-Men grasp?” Daran cannot help but submit to his fear.

“The X-Men have failed at a few things, but we will not fail at this, I promise you.”

Daran responds, “Promises go against nature’s course.”

“So do a lot of things,” Paige says firmly, looking up at the dome. After Paige, Daran hops over a fallen tree trunk.

“Do we know where we’re going?” Iceman asks, clumsily walking over the dead forest floor.

“Where would you be if you created a dome?”

Iceman pauses before spouting, “The center.”

Storm narrows her eyes. “The very center.”

Daran notices Cecilia Reyes out of the corner of his eye. She is speaking to the family that Iceman has spoken to before entering. Their eyes are hungry with hope as they look on at the strangely clad superheroes before them. Robert waves to them, and the parents nod in response while the child vigorously waves.

Storm turns to Daran with wind blowing through her thick Mohawk, like she was an ancient soldier wearing a horsehair helmet, ready for battle. “Before we go farther, perhaps you’d like to try your hand at growth while inside the dome?”

Nodding, Daran concentrates on a maple tree that yet stands at least sixty feet tall. He took hold of its roots to absorb the water within the soil, drawing the water through the fibrous vessels within the tree. The roots fill with life, and the tree begins to revive, its color returning as the water travels up the trunk. Alas, a few feet from the ground, the color fades and holds still. A song bursts forth from Daran, a song he often finds himself singing, as the life grew within the tree:

 

> _When in the springtime of the year_
> 
> _When the trees are crowned with leaves_
> 
> _When the ash and oak and the birch and yew_
> 
> _Are crowned in ribbons fair_

Before the branches could flower, sprout leaves, and produce samaras, the tree once again holds its position. The life recedes when Daran concedes that his concentration holds no sway over any further progress. Disappointment weighs his shoulders down, but he must carry on to test another method.

This time, Daran tries a new plant, tossing a white oak acorn to the ground. He breaks open the acorn with the budding plant, looking like a tiny Venus Fly Trap. The tiny white roots find their way into the soil, digging deep in search of water, as Daran resumes the song.

 

> _When owls call the breathless moon_
> 
> _In the blue veil of the night_
> 
> _The shadows of the trees appear_
> 
> _Amidst the lantern light_

The tree grows just above his height of six feet before its growth halts. He feels a force draining the life from within the tree, just as the last one had. A sweat breaks out on his forehead. “What I do is almost immediately counteracted,” he explains, thinking of the doer/undoer myths, crossing cultures as sibling deities fight each other for eternity as the good god builds and protects humanity and the other destroys it all. He only now realizes Paige is yet holding his hand and continues to do so during the entirety of their somber trek across the lifeless town just outside of the forest’s grasp. Tony Stark’s navigator beeps faster as they near the epicenter: a large plantation home atop a knoll, guarded by a stone wall. Standing sentry just outside the house are robots made in the image of Dr. Doom’s himself, priding his vanity.

“Doombots,” says Storm, peering over the ledge of the crude stone wall. Robots make Daran uncomfortable for a variety of reasons, two being their unnatural existence and their unemotional state. One who does not feel is one is who dangerous, untrustworthy, and unpredictable. “Iceman,” she continues, “can you freeze them all?”

Iceman thinks for a moment before answering. “I would have to do it individually, freezing them inside-out. If I freeze them from the outside, they’re going to build quick defenses and possibly melt any ice that forms.”

“Would it help if I made it colder?”

“Yes, but no snow. I need the moisture in the air.”

For a moment, Daran almost recoils from Storm’s intense, beautiful gaze, like the feline goddess Bastet. Paige lets go of his hand. “Perhaps you should have stayed outside.”

“No,” he responds, “I need to be here. I can help, I know. I can feel it.”

“None of us will think you weak if you decide to turn back at any point.” Her concern is touching, but he can fend for himself. “But if you insist on continuing on, allow Cecilia Reyes to stay at your side. Husk, you’re his muscle.”

“I think he’s got plenty of muscle,” Paige says, smiling, squeezing his arm.

M pipes up, “Paige, keep your hormones in check. They’re out of control at the moment.” Daran could not help but grin.

Quickly Storm says seriously, “M, can you scan the area for any non-civilian life?”

Arms folded below her chest, M responds, “I was bored and already did a scan. There are a few human hostile minds inside the mansion. As far as I can tell, everyone on the outside is civilian.”

Storm wonders aloud, “So what keeps the people in fear?”

“I hope to not find out,” Cecilia says.

Storm’s eyes cloud over, and frigid air descended upon them like a blanket of ice. “My go,” Iceman says. He gathers moisture in the air to infiltrate the dozen Doombots standing outside the front of the house, and before the robots could properly respond to the attack, ice crawls over them. The team hops the stone wall that fences the property’s perimeter, under Storm’s fog cover, but a wave of Doombots exit through the doors to immediately locate the X-Men.

Her eyes still white, Storm explains, “Doom must have connected the bots as a hive mind, so they were alerted to the incapacitated bots Iceman took out. Husk and Cece, you’re with me and Daran inside. M and Iceman, you’re our best bet against the sheer number of Doombots now outside. Remember, destroy the heads. Decapitating will simply lead to a regrowth of the body.”

Without orders, Iceman freezes the incoming Doombots, so that Storm may lead Daran, Husk, and Cecilia into the house. As they pass by, the ice cracks and chips under intense heat from within the Doombots. They have mere seconds to enter the building, and just as they enter through the door, Daran looks behind him and see M engaging the Doombots, smashing their heads and tearing them apart. With the help of the locator zeroing in on the location more minutely, Storm leads them through the main corridor, through two rooms and to a parlor room, where a black rock glows with red veins, filling Daran with dread. Small wires conduct the ball’s energy into coils that extend out to connect with Doombots, lying on tables. Paige rips her skin off to reveal a copper beneath, tearing off a second layer of her right arm to expose a diamond form. “A Doombot farm in Mississippi? Why?” Storms asks, examining the bodies.

A voice resonates from the next room. “I needed a place where life thrived in nature, but I needed to see the effect the development of my new version of Doombot had on humans. I’ve drawn the life energies from the earth and redirected the natural essences into Doombots, injected with human DNA. Of course, I could not complete this process in my own Latveria. I should have done so in a remote jungle, far from any superheroes that might spoil my fun. Though I’ve made that mistake, it did not stop me from creating a few sets before any superheroes had the gall to enter the dome. I should have known you’d be the first, Ororo. You always were brazen, or at least pretend like you are.” Doctor Doom emerges from the shadows to look at his creations, his abominations. “Doombot 3.0, part human, part machine, part magic. It has the intelligence, the reason, the resilience, and the subservience of my previous bots; but it has the capacity for emotion, for irrationality, and for free thought. It uses all the weapons I’ve equipped previous incarnations but can perform magic spells.”

“Free thought and subservience typically do not go hand in hand, Victor,” Storm says, unfazed by the approach of Dr. Doom. His green hood shadows his metal-plated face. His armor softly shines in what little light caresses the windows.

“But a person would be smart to realize when they need to be subservient. If your precious X-Men didn’t listen to you, you might yet be my captive or even my wife.” This man, or what was once a man, is insane with power.

“How will you stop me, Ororo? Do you have the heart to kill my children? They are human, after all. You cannot simply tear them apart like your friends are outside, who by the way are about to fall victim to a flood of Doombots.”

“I’ll at least see to your captivity,” Storm promises.

“I think not.” Doom shoots lightning at Daran, Cecilia, and Husk. Because Cecilia was examining the bodies about, she was not near Daran and Husk, her force field unable to reach them. Quickly, Husk blocks the lightning blasts in front of Daran with her copper arm and touches a yet unformed Doombot body beside her. The electric travels throw the copper conducted wires to the ball at the center of the room. It only returns through all the copper wires. The Doombots remain unmolested by electric. They are, of course, immune, as Doom is.

Storm engages Doom in hand to hand combat, keeping him occupied, ducking with an impressive swiftness, trying to wear him out. She cannot shoot him with lightning, so she sends a gust of wind to pin him against the wall.

“We need to shatter that rock,” says Husk beside him. “It’s the medium of this chaos.” As he nears the glowing stone, a wave of updated Doombots enters the room. “Cecilia, fall on Daran. He needs to figure out how to destroy that rock.”

Daran finds it difficult to concentrate on the rock, given Doombots are surrounding them, trying to kill him and his new friends. Examining it, though, Daran sees the sharp edges, rigid in its layers but smooth in its cut course. “Obsidian,” he says aloud, perhaps to himself. Of course, a mineral formed from lava and quickly cooled to form a glass. It must be prone to dark magic and is the perfect medium for channeling natural energies.

“Can you smash it?” Cecilia asks, fending off two Doom bots by cutting their abdomens with a scalpel-shaped force field, extended from her arm. She could not simply cast a force field over them to allow Storm to fend for herself against a horde of Doombots and Doom himself.

“No,” Daran tells her. “The magic will continue to work, I’m sure, and in smaller fragments, the process will be even more difficult to reverse.” He has no previous knowledge of or experience with magic, but somehow Daran is attuned to the natural life flowing from the rock. He touches it and feels the power from the Earth invigorate him, more powerful and more direct than ever. A bolt of electricity is shot at Daran, as he notes out of the corner of his eye. Paige blocks it and returns the shot. Doom takes a kick to his throat by Storm’s foot as she pulls out a bone knife from her boot. “Can you two cover me for a bit longer?”

“Sure can,” says Paige, punching a Doombot in the face with her diamond fist.

Once again touching the smooth rock, Daran extends his mental control into the wires and into the bodies of the forming Doombots. He pulls out the life given to them and returns the life into the obsidian, holding onto it, preventing the life force from returning to the wires. Daran’s veins bulge with red glow. The pain threatens to drain him as well. “Please cut the wires.”

Cecilia turns quickly to form a pair of scissors with her force field to cut fives of the wires. “Go,” Paige tells her, “I’ll cover him.”

As Cecilia cuts the wires, Daran reaches deep within the obsidian to expel the natural forces in the reverse direction, to feed the earth, to replenish it, to nourish it. But it is not enough. Too much energy has been spent on previous bodies. He cannot redact the life force now that they are alive, not unless he wants to live with a guilty conscience for the remainder of his life. The notes, clear and dark spring forth from his being:

 

> _I fell asleep down by a stream_
> 
> _And there I had the strangest dream._
> 
> _And down by Brennan's Glen there grows_
> 
> _A briar and a rose_

He can feel the life pulsing back into the earth and the plants reviving, negating the life-draining effects of Doom’s magic. But he cannot push much farther with the pain increasing the more he pushes. Suddenly he hears Paige singing along with him, a higher note, creating a discordant harmony.

 

> _There's a tree in the forest_
> 
> _And I don't know where_
> 
> _I built a nest out of you hair_
> 
> _And climbing up into the air_
> 
> _The briar and the rose_

He had never thought of the song in such a manner, but it works. The beauty of their harmony released his focus on the pain and encouraged the success of the surrounding flora. But Paige’s voice is not enough.

“I don’t think now’s the time for a Tom Waits sing-along,” says Cecilia.

“Cece, it’s helping him,” Paige says.

“Ugh. Fine.” With that, Cecilia joins in the song, creating a sort of sound like Sacred Harp Singing.

> _Well I don't know how long it's been_
> 
> _But I was born in Brennan's Glen_
> 
> _And near the end of spring there grows_
> 
> _A briar and a rose_

The tears flow from Daran’s eyes as he pushes the boundaries of his powers yet again. He is losing the battle against the dark magic. He knows what he must do. He has devoted much of his life to nature and must save it at all cost. He continues louder, suffering through the pain.

> _I picked the rose one early morn_
> 
> _I pricked my finger on a thorn_
> 
> _It had grown so close its winding wove_
> 
> _The briar 'round the rose_

Storm joins in between trading hits with Dr. Doom, and Daran resigns to his fate with one last look at Paige Guthrie, the woman that just could have been the love of his life. She glances over her shoulder at him with a grin and then wide eyes and terror.


	9. The Briar and the Rose

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Storm leads Reyes, Iceman, Husk, M, and Daran into Hattiesburg to the source of the black dome, where Doctor Doom awaits them with his horde of guardian Doombots and a new invention that can only bring death and destruction.

“Storm, we need Iceman, stat,” Stark rings in her ear. “Commander Cyclops is here.”

The sweat pours from Daran as if it can no longer stay within his body by the swelling pain inside. He sings so sweetly and yet so boldly with Ororo, Paige, and Cecilia, who valiantly fend off the intruding Doombots. Victor von Doom lies at her feet with multiple slices, bruises, and broken bones. It’s pointless to bound him because he’ll only break out of it when he awakens. She has no access to high-tech restraints. How long he’d be out, she didn’t know; but whatever happened next needs to happen quickly. She does kick him in the head for good measure. Her toe may be broken, but the satisfaction of beating Doom senseless could lessen the pain of any wound.

> _I tried to tear them both apart_  
>  I felt a bullet through my heart  
> And all dressed up in Spring's new clothes  
> The briar and the rose

Before she responds to Tony’s request, Daran looks at Cecilia, then Storm, and lastly Husk with a longing gaze. Knowing she cannot reach Daran with a sea of fighting Doombots between them, Husk screams in deafening defiance. She fights harder, trying to make her way to Daran. They know that he’s sacrificing himself. His voice falters with cracks and breaks as his bare chest heaves.

> _And when I'm buried and in my grave_  
>  Tell me so I may know  
> Your tears may fall to make love grow  
> The briar and the rose

“Goodbye,” he says with tears streaming down his face, keeping his eyes upon Paige. He drops onto the obsidian and turns white with a low scream. The obsidian cracks, and he collapses to the hardwood floor with a puff of pollen rising into the air, forming a whirlwind, and exploding outwards in a circle. Storm joins Cecilia in fending off the intruders, unconcerned about Doom awakening at this point. Paige runs to Daran’s side, checking his pulse, and repeatedly saying, “No.”

A punch lands on Storm’s face, as she’s distracted by Husk’s outburst. “Enough!” Paige screams through her tears, kneeling beside Daran’s lifeless body.

Cecilia interjects, “Now is not the time, Guthrie. We got punches to throw and miles to go before we sleep.”

Quietly Paige continues, standing and facing their opponents, “Enough. Our friend has just died, stopping you and your madman boss. He gave his life willingly so that others may live. For what reason would you die? Because Victor von Doom expects you to die for him? Because you’re his pawns? That is no way to be treated and certainly no way to live. Doom has never been a large proponent of freedom. Just ask my colleague Storm.” As Paige gestures towards her, Storm takes another hit, this time in her abdomen, but she notices a few Doombots ceasing engagement. “How long have you been alive? Hours? All you know is intimidation and violence. All you know is the madman that you probably call your father or creator. You are nothing but babies. You haven’t learned how to be a person yet. You haven’t had the opportunity of thinking for yourselves yet, have you? No. Because, like baby animals, you imprinted on the first person you saw and listened to what he said because that’s how imprinting works. You follow him without question, without wondering if indeed this is normal, that this is _right_. There is more to living than destruction and death. There’s love and life. This man just resigned himself to the earth so that this town and this forest might live to see another few hundred years.” Surprisingly, now over half of the Doombots cease fire and listen, while Cecilia and Storm defend her against the rest. Much to Storm’s shock and surprise, the fighting Doombots are killed by their peers with swift beheading by hands and electrocharges to the brains.

“Iceman,” Storm softly but surely tells her earpiece in the moment of peace, “take Doom out of here and meet the rest of the X-Men.” She does not want to interrupt Paige’s speech, but now is the moment of weakness. The Doombots have no leader. They have rebelled against Doom and each other. Bobby runs into the room, thankfully not cracking a joke, and takes a survey. Storm continues, “Hurry. Cyclops has provoked our defenses.” Ignoring the surrounding fight—though he could end it with a concentrated thought—Iceman nods and surrounds Doom in ice, leading him out, like a Husky pulling a sled. “M, can you keep it up?”

“Of course,” she responds. “This is like a day of shopping: fun, carefree, and wrecking of banks accounts. Consider Doom’s bank account dwindling faster than Magneto’s libido.”

Silence befalls the Doombots as they look at each other. They nod in unison. One of the Doombots speaks up, removing his mask to reveal a soft, saddened face, one far older than his hours. Gaunt features and wrinkles etch his face, giving him less Doom-like features. “We choose to not to live in this way but to die in honor before we can once again be corrupted. Computers are easily hacked, and people can easily obtain deadly diseases. It’s a terrible world for machines and man, and we are the product of both. We choose to fry our own circuits and end our lives.”

“You don’t have to, though,” Paige pleads. “You can live as you choose. You were given a brain to do so.”

“We have been given the ability to choose, but we were given the ability to follow orders. We only execute in creative manners. As you said, this is no life. This is only death. Death for those around us and death within us. You cannot stop us. We apologize for any harm we’ve done.” If only Daran had been alive yet, she might persuade the Doombots to return their lives to the earth with his help.

Tears freely fall from Paige’s eyes. She sincerely believes they can change, that they can learn how to be human and to think for themselves. After all, Karima Shapandar is a prime example of how it can be done. “No. Please don’t. Enough life has been taken here.”

“Then we will remove ourselves from this location and delete ourselves elsewhere.”

“Please, reconsider your options,” Storm finds herself saying. She does not care if these abominations live or die, but there is potential within them to be good. If Psylocke had not been away, she might be able to free the Doombots from their hive minds, like she had done with Proteus. If M removes herself from battle outside the house, the frontline of defense against the older line of Doombots will be absent, allowing them to attack the team. M enters, looking as if she were never engaged in battle, hair perfectly falling on her shoulders and skin flawlessly vibrant. “M, perhaps you might be able to implant suggestions for them to live rather than kill themselves?”

“Why would I do that?”

Storm responds, “They have yet to kill anyone, as far as we know.”

“It looks like there _is_ a casualty.” M’s eyes fall towards Daran, shards of obsidian scattered upon his lifeless body.

“We have no right to judge them on actions over which they have no control,” Paige tells M with a broken voice, calm and low.

M sighs and unwillingly submits, “Fine.” Just as she does, the Doombots take action, save for the one Husk grabs by the forearms. They all fry their own heads, but M manages to find some semblance of a mind and ceases action in him. He falls limp and Husk gently allows him to fall to the floor. Cecilia rushes to Daran’s side, pulling off her backpack. Ororo’s heart sinks as she glances at the multitude of bodies about them, despite them looking like Doom. Paige returns to Daran’s side, opposite Cecilia. “Lay him out on the grass on back. We need to get out of this place.” Paige carries him, and M carries the sole remaining Doombot. Their bodies are laid on the grass of the back yard, the front having the wreckage of dozens of Doombots.

Stethoscope to Daran’s chest, Cecilia declares his heart inactive, and M still cannot read his mind. Paige digs her head into Ororo’s shoulder, and Ororo wraps her arms around her. The shaking of her sobs brought tears to Ororo’s eyes. “The storm will soon pass, child.” She had seen Daran as godlike, even more than herself. It’s strange to see a god die, and it’s especially heartbreaking to see one die with whom she felt such a connection. “Where should we bury him?”

Paige barely moved her head from Ororo’s pit, so her voice could be heard. “He died here, giving his life for the people and its environment. He loved his life in Gaia’s Green. It was his paradise. He made it to his liking, to the image in his head. His aunt’s farm is where his heart belongs, I think. It’s where he became who he is.” Paige is taking to her courses in psychology, able to infer his history without asking him how he felt about it.

“Unfortunately, we don’t know where his aunt’s farm is.”

She turns from Ororo to look at Daran once more. “Sure we can. Harlan’s a small town. All we have to do is ask around.”

Around them, the black dome is fading from the ground up. “Good work, Storm,” Iron Man tell her in her earpiece. “The Cyclops situation has been dealt with. Meet us back here ASAP. We’ve got a lot to discuss.”

“Cecilia, stay here to help anyone who needs medical attention. I’ll have Iron Man announce it somehow. He can project something I’m sure. We can make the yard into a makeshift med bay. We shall return soon. Husk, can you stay with her? You’ve had experience with nursing the wounded and dealing with psychological scars. M, you can be of assistance lifting and transporting victims. I will take Daran and the Doombot with us.” Paige nods, looking at Daran’s body.

“I could’ve stopped it earlier,” says Paige. “They could’ve given their lives to rechannel their energy into the earth, rather than waste them on nothing.”

Ororo looks at Daran as well. “I don’t think he’d let them die, Paige.”

“Before we go home, I’d like to make a pit stop.”

“Where?”

“Gaia’s Green,” she responds. “I want to take his books with us: his only belongings, so that we might remember him.”


	10. Strong as an Oak

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Husk returns Daran’s mysteriously changing body to Gaia’s Green to await the X-Men, as they help clean up Hattiesburg.

Fourteen people had died, Husk found out upon staying in town, attacking the Doombots to protect their town and families. A few more injuries from such attacks were presented, but the worst cases were those from dehydration. Water lines and currents were blocked from getting inside the dome. The result was exploded water lines and a diverted river around the dome, creating a swamp and flooded roads around the dome. Gordon’s and Green’s Creeks finally reverted to their normal paths.

 

Husk, Cecilia, and M return to the group, the pavement still wet from the diverted creeks. Bobby holds an injured Sam. Paige and Cecilia go to her brother’s side to check his wounds. “Where’s Doom?” asks Husk with a taste of bitter disdain, choking back the will to vomit.

Coolly, Storm responds, “He is imprisoned on Iron Man’s jet with Broo keeping watch.”

Turning her attention to Storm with hands still on Sam’s arm. Cecilia is stunned. “You let Broo go with just Doom and Iron Man? Iron Man is essentially ineffective against Doom, and Broo has no experience with him.”

“Do not fret,” Storm calmly states. “The S.H.I.E.L.D. Helicarrier is meeting them in Knoxville. He won’t be long with Doom.”

“Besides,” Bobby adds, “didn’t Storm take him down herself in hand-to-hand combat? Out of all of us, aside from Storm obviously, I’d say Broo is the most resourceful without powers.”

“I’ll take your word for it, Drake,” Cecilia says, “but if anything happens to that genius child, I will spit roast you like a hog.”

“You’ve been hanging around these Guthries for too long, Cece,” says Iceman. Paige manages a smile from his joke. But it doesn’t last when she is reminded of Daran’s death as he lies before them. Along with Storm, Paige notices, she admires the beauty in which Daran helped restore. The farms, the flowers, the trees, the grass, all sprout and return to green and full bloom. While the life flows further from him, the earth returns to life around them.

Reyes realizes what she said and, with a sigh, moves her hand from her forehead then moves it to her neck to rest her chin, pushing up her cheek.

Breaking in with no nonsense, M questions, “What about all the Dumbots and damage to the town?”

Clearly already having the answer, Storm quickly responds, “S.H.I.E.L.D. is also taking care of it. You’ve done the most important parts: saving the town and healing the town.”

Sam finally speaks up, “But doesn’t it make people think that we make a mess and don’t want to clean it up? That we’re irresponsible children? I think it’s best we stay to help clean up if we want mutants to be seen as everyday people and as heroes. Ain’t nothin’ wrong with getting our hands dirty.” His words bring Husk back to home, planting crops with Ma and Pa.

“Unless you’re performing surgery,” Cecilia quips.

Storm asks who wants to stay behind with Daran’s body, unless they take him with them again.

“I will,” Paige offers. “I’ll take him back to Gaia’s Green, too.”

Sam interjects, “But it would be easier if I just jet him across the forest.”

“No, Sam,” Paige tells him vehemently. “I want to do this. I can carry him, no problem, if I husk.” The X-Men head back into town, as Husk rips off her skin to reveal organic steel beneath. She throws Daran over her shoulder as gently as she can and heads into the gloomy forest ahead.

 

It was a bit difficult to find Gaia’s Green at first through the twisted trees bending over in grieving agony. Paige isn’t familiar with this forest, but she managed to continue southeast to the general direction, listening for the fall of water and animal sounds. At the basin of the pond, Paige lays him down and kneels beside him. His face is gaunt, and his blue-black veins protrude from his sunken skin. His light blond hair, once smooth and shining, like corn silk, now sprawls gray-brown about his face and neck. His cheeks jut out from his face like roughly hewn boulders. His moss pants hang loose around his waist. Paige closes Daran’s hazel eyes, now gray-brown. Animals began to gather around her and Daran’s body: Loretta the boar, Jerry the piglet, Grace the doe, Tibbot the fawn, a wolf she’s going to go ahead and call Gareth for the hell of it, and countless animals she recognizes without knowing their names. Husk noticed behind the animals that the flowers began wilting, and the trees started to wilt. Even the plants are mourning his passing. Paige lies beside him, listening to the waterfall, and holds his surprisingly warm hand. “I promised to return with you if you helped. I’m making good on that promise.”

A cloud of pollen swirls about them, and the blood flows faster through his skin, far less ghastly than before. A dry, deep voice breathily cracks, “The woods are lovely, dark and deep.” His hazel eyes blink and smile at her, much to her surprise. She calls out his name and wraps her arms around him tightly. “Good thing you didn’t burn my body.” He smiled, and they laughed as she hugged him. He is alive, somehow alive. Paige wants to do more with him and painstakingly refrains from kissing him. After all, she just kissed Bobby hours earlier. As Paige releases her embrace, their cheeks graze, and for the briefest moment, she almost loses control. She inhales deeply, and a fire rises within her. An actual fire. Her metallic skin melts over the heat of her magma form. She retreats from him, so as to not burn him. She apologizes profusely, looking over him to ensure that she hadn’t dripped molten metal on him. She can’t gain her composure and husk again, unless she wanted intense pain to feed her entire body’s nerve endings.

There they sit across from each other, her on fire, him regaining color and strength. Though Daran’s eyes are hazel again, much is changed before her. His once-blond hair is now growing green from the rebirth, like uncut grass. His skin is taking on a histosol hue, as if he is adopting that of the dirt’s own rotting organisms. But it does not keep its hue, as it shifts to that of a maple bark—brownish-gray with streaks of burnt orange. Paige doesn’t know what to say to someone who was legally dead for about three hours. “So…how are you alive?”

Coming to terms with his own revival, Daran grips his aching head and says, “I’m not entirely sure, but it seems that I fed the land in Hattiesburg, but to reclaim my own life, I had to go elsewhere to borrow an already established life. You chose well with Gaia’s Green,” he says looking around. “I may have drained it, but its life will soon return, as will I.”

Paige blushes as she tells him, “I am so relieved that you’re alive.” As his features more closely resemble a forest in itself, he notices the studious look upon her face. “You’re changing.”

“Unless you possess a spare wardrobe, then we might sew together your shed skin?”

“Ew, no, Hannibal, no.” Paige explains her statement by silently rubbing his face, rough as bark, despite a previously clean-shaven face, and plucking a strand of his hair. She holds up the strand before his face. “This is your hair. Grass. Your skin is essentially turning into bark.”

With a grin and peaceful eyes, Daran shows no signs of remorse, fright, or contempt as he examines his limbs. “I have been reborn from the earth, autochthonous with those that grow from it. I am now connected with my mother.”

A constant but barely audible hum radiates from him, but it doesn’t seem to arise from his vocal chords. It’s his entire being. “Do you hear the humming?”

He looks at her with curiosity. “Apparently, you are hearing what I am feeling. It must be my connection to nature’s network.”

For what must have been a half hour, Paige and Daran walked about Gaia’s Green with the animals in tow. She finally asks him what was scratching at her brain. “Daran, will you return with us to Westchester?”

“I will. This stroll about the grounds is my farewell to the second home I ever knew. Perhaps you would like to help me move onto my third by loading my books onto the jet?”

“Of course,” Paige responds, realizing she wore a broad smile. She bit her lip in excitement, husking her magma skin to granite. The magma quickly cools and turns black. They make their way to his lair of pines. The scent of pines reminds her of the mountains of home, and it fills her with a sense of awe and comfort. She imagines herself beside her mama in one of the porch rocking chairs, wrapped up in a blanket made by her meemaw with a steaming mug of tea, the stars seemingly just out of reach.

Paige snaps the bookshelf’s vines at the ground level, and Daran winces, almost in pain. “Does the lady need assistance?” he stumbles, but Paige picks up the bookshelf—books facing upwards—with relative ease, despite its weight.

“Nope. I’m good.” She’d break a sweat if she could right now. They make their way through the imperfectly sculpted trees and ferny undergrowth to the Blackbird. The ramp opens when it scans her retinas, and she places the bookshelf down in the back of the jet. Daran isn’t behind her, but she returns to the door. She remains at the top, watching him. He remains outside, looking around as he fidgets with his hands and then his hair. Paige smiles as the animals once again return to his side. She joins him on the ground.

As the nature lovers wait, they discuss their favorite animals, though Daran declares he can’t tell her or the ones present will be offended, especially the boars. Paige moves onto his impending life at the Xavier estate, where he’ll make his home in the vast forest on the land. She tells him of the X-Men’s adventures of late, but—like Ororo—Paige is ready for a new branch of X-Men, a global outreach team, teaming up with Mutantes Sans Frontieres. “But if you’re going to be hanging around us, you might want to dress…I don’t know…in clothes. Not necessarily a uniform, but at least something that isn’t the equivalent of a fig leaf.” The grass hair on his head flows in the wind as Daran looks at his moss pants. He looks directly into Paige’s eyes. His brown left eyebrow perks up as the right corner of his mouth does. “What would you suggest?”

“If you don’t want the normal X-uniform, you might consider something more your style,” she responds as her reddish-purple stone skin cracks and chips off. “What colors do you like? What tells everyone your powers? What tells us who you are?” Her red and gold uniform shines in the late afternoon sun.

“Naturally, I have always been prone to earth colors, even before my powers came to fruition,” Daran says. “Prior to my hermitage, I dressed in neo-Victorian garb, reminiscent of a time when language thrived as an art form.”

A rabbit nestles in the crook of Paige’s elbow, and she pets her head with a finger. “Sounds like you’ve got it, then.”

The X-Men approach in the air and descend upon the Blackbird. The animals jump or hide in response, but soon return to Daran’s side. “Let’s get going,” M declares. “I need to shower.” He says his goodbyes to the animals. They respond with an uproar of noise, clearly breaking his heart. They’re his family, but he cannot take them with him, not on this ride at least. Daran hesitates to ascend the ramp, but Paige takes him by the hand and leads him up, leaving the animals to be utterly silent in mourning. His hand is shaking and sweating profusely, and his internal hum grows louder. The fear in his eyes looks more akin to a deer in headlights. He hasn’t been away off the ground or a tree in years. This will be a terrible ride for him, but luckily it’ll be quick. Grace and Tibbot jump onto the ramp, slipping on the metal, as it ascends to close. Well, at least two of the animals are coming. Sitting at his feet, the deer are no problem, not agitated—at least compared to Daran—as the Blackbird takes flight. Paige digs her phone out of the compartment under hear seat and take a photo, grinning at the absurdity.


	11. Epilogue: The Hideaway

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The X-Men return home, and Husk visits Daran at his new residence on the X-Men's property.

Ororo, Dani, Victor, Cecilia, and Paige eat in silence after a taxing day. Typically Paige would eat a burger or two to replenish her energy, but she couldn’t fathom eating meat after seeing Daran and his critter friends. She makes some small talk after finishing her meal, ensuring Dani’s okay, suffering a few burns and a fracture. Paige excuses herself and takes a six pack of lager from the fridge. Before heading out to see Daran, she decides to stop check on Sam. He and Bobby both skipped on dinner. It definitely wasn’t like Bobby to skip out on a meal and attempt to incite a food fight.

Paige softly knocks on Sam’s door. No response. She beings to open the door and starts, “Sa—” but sees her brother and Bobby making out in the dim lamp light. Sam’s hands rest on Bobby’s lower back and Bobby’s arms, with a beer in one hand, are draped around Sam’s neck. They don’t notice her presence, so she locks the door from inside and quietly shuts it behind her. Mouth agape and beer in hand, Paige leaves to see Daran, her thoughts jumbled and her skin flaking. She always knew in the back of her mind that Sam and Bobby could have a closer relationship than just friends, but she clung to that hope that maybe Bobby could see her as herself and not an extension of her brother. Was that all she was to him: Sam with ladyparts? A way to be close to him without telling him how he felt? Paige, just what is this mess you’re in?

The woods look different now that Daran has moved in. The trees are larger and greener. Owls watch her like snipers perched in the trees. She knows she grows closer as the landscape changes with even larger trees, underbrush, and blooming flowers. Trees move to form an aisle, bowing to her, a branch across their bent trunks and a branch behind. The moon glow radiates from the waterfall, larger and more impressive than Gaia’s Green, as it is more naturally mountainous. A pack of coyotes drink from its shore.

“My lady.” From the crook of a tree branch, Daran jumps beside her.

“Feeling better, I take it,” she says.

He looks her up and down. He hasn’t seen her in civilian clothes since they met years ago. Is her simple outfit of brown t-shirt, jeans, and hiking boots appropriate enough and sexy enough? Does she really want to impress him? Obviously, she does. He is gorgeous. Was gorgeous. Now, he’s…striking, a sort of beautiful that only can be found in nature. “As chipper as a chipmunk.”

“Good.” Ready for a beer, really ready, Paige pops a couple tops and offers one to Daran. He eyes the bottle with suspicion. “It’s organic,” she notes with a smirk, hoping that might change his mind. His hand hesitates and accepts it. His mouth contorts when he takes a sip, so she guesses he hasn’t drank alcohol in years.

They sit on the crispy leaf-covered ground. His face relaxes after another sip, and he admits, “Delicious. I always found stouts rather agreeable.”

“It’s beautiful out here, Daran. You did a wonderful job,” Paige tells him, looking about the wooded expanse around her.

“Nature knows no boundaries of beauty. I have simply helped it mature.” Daran gulps his beer, acting as thirsty for it as an alcoholic might. A quick change from the hesitance and slight disgust at the first drink, she notes. Perhaps she just fed a recovered alcoholic.

“It’s beautiful, nonetheless.”

He looks down at the grass between his legs. “Not as beautiful as you.” Unable to tell if her cheeks were warm from the stout or from flattery, Paige smiles and pulls a stray lock of her blonde waves behind her ear. This should be where they kiss, but she does not lean in, does not look at him. He doesn’t pull her to him. He respects her space, which makes her want him even more. Her heart beats loud in her ears, as if a marching band’s bass drum sounds off within her head. The crickets chirp, and the coyotes howl, gathering to leave on a hunt. They are larger out here than they were back home, a coywolf, really, the only vestige of either species in the area. She felt like howling along with them. Paige feels her skin began to peel off on her chest, and she feels fur rub against her shirt.

The silence between them now feels awkward. If she doesn’t think of something to say, then she’ll surely lean in to kiss him. “You’ve missed a lot of folk music while you were hibernating,” Paige says. “Lots of it from Britain and Ireland.” She pulls out her phone and searches to find a band he’d like: Jon Boden’s latest folk project with Loreena McKennitt with songs based on nature. His face illuminates as the song plays, Boden’s and McKennitt’s voices both bold and old. Daran’s hum drones like a hurdy-gurdy, lending an eerie tone to the already haunting tune. Daran is the voice of her home, of the mountains. Paige’s grandfather played the hurdy-gurdy, and her grandmother played the fiddle. Her pa had learned guitar and her uncle Lucas had learned banjo. However, her pa had stopped when he had a job coal mining and farming at home. He’d no time for music, especially after having children. Paige had dabbled in guitar growing up but never made something of it. Suddenly, she feels the need to take up guitar again.

The song ends, and Daran’s face remains with a broad smile and a warm glow. His eyes gloss over, and tears fall from his face. “I had not realized how intensely I missed music until now.” Grace and Tibbot nestle up between Paige and Daran. Though their presence prevents Paige from following through with a kiss, they manage to meet hands as they both pet Tibbot, holding hands.

“You know you can visit me at the school anytime, and we can listen together.”

Daran’s next drink brings no facial reaction this time around. “I very much enjoy your company, Paige Guthrie.”

“I like yours, too, Daran Yew.” Paige rips her skin off to reveal a wooden form underneath with bark as the epidermis. The earth begins to flow into her, as if she’s rooting herself in it, and she begins to feel for just a fleeting moment what it’s like to be Daran: that rush of a world constantly turning, vibrating, and sending signals in a natural social network. She never felt like this whenever she husked into wood. Is it her newfound secondary mutation causing her emotional connection to nature and consequently to Daran? Is it all in her head, just wishful thinking? She takes a drink.

“Would you perchance want to accompany me to Harlan in the morrow?” Daran asks her.

Paige takes another swig from her beer. “I’m not stopping by Harlan if I don’t get to go home, too.”


End file.
